


The Rocky Road To Dublin

by possiblynatalya



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, You know what I mean, i assure you i am not, plus like all the political figures of post-revolutionary Ireland, this is garbage but i needed to get it out there, this is just me trying to cope with the events of s3, you think im joking???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblynatalya/pseuds/possiblynatalya
Summary: It's 1923, and Tom Branson has long since left Downton Abbey for Ireland, determined to play his part in the war for independence. What happens when he returns to England, and to Sybil?
Relationships: Tom Branson/Sybil Crawley
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

It was late on a terribly stormy evening, but there was no way one could tell from the dinner party raging on inside of Tom Branson’s Dublin flat.

“Shut your mouth, Gibbons, you’re full of it,” insisted Tom, smiling as he took a sip of his drink. The others, gathered around the large dining room table, laughed. 

“We’re politicians, aren’t we all?” shot back Gibbons. “And if anyone’s full of it, it’s you. Nothing but talk, I say.” The room quickly fell silent. Tom and Gibbons were often at each other’s throats, radically different in their opinions and approaches to their work. Where Gibbons was quick to defend conservative values, Tom was eager to deliver on the socialist promises that had gotten him elected to the Third Dail in the first place. 

“Careful, Gibbons,” warned Milroy, “Those are fighting words.” Tom, always hesitant to start a fight, simply shook his head and, with a flick of his hand, gestured for Milroy to leave the subject alone. After a few more minutes of careful conversation, Gibbons pursed his lips and rose from his chair. 

“I’m afraid I must leave now, or Sinead will begin to worry.” He moved from the dining room into the entry, slipping on his coat and donning his hat, preparing to exit the warmth of the flat into the pouring rain. The other men nodded and began to leave their chairs as well, reluctant to leave yet unwilling to impose on their gracious host. They filed out the door, each wishing Tom and their comrades a good, albeit uneventful, rest of the night. No one wanted any excitement on so dreary a night. 

As the door closed behind the last man, Tom let out a sigh. He was pleased with how the night had gone, yet exhausted. It had been a long, difficult day at work; his assistant, Tobias McNeil, had put in his two-week notice exactly two weeks ago, and Tom was still struggling to find someone to fill the role. Unwilling to trust the more junior staff assistants, Tom had taken on all of Tobias’ work himself. He was, as Miriam would declare with a fierce sigh, chronically overworked. His mother had also been pressing him to come to dinner so he might meet the daughter of her new neighbor, but that was absolutely the last of his current worries. 

The most prominent worry? His eminent trip to London, accompanying the Minister for External Affairs, Desmond FitzGerald, to several meetings with important London officials. Tom wasn’t quite sure what he was afraid of; he delivered impassioned speeches in Leinster House frequently, and had even been one of the witnesses and signatories of the Anglo-Irish Treaty. He was not a pushover, not at all. So what was he so afraid of? 

~O~

“...I shall arrive in London on the 5th of June. If all goes according to plan, the meetings will commence on the 7th, and end on the 16th. I apologize, I must be boring you to tears with the logistics! Anyway, it would indeed be very nice to see you again, if you are in fact in London at that time for the Season. It is impossible to believe it has been seven years already. Tell Mr. Bates and the others I say hello. Best wishes, Tom Branson.” 

Anna stared at the letter. While they remained in contact through letters, Anna was delighted at the prospect of seeing Tom again, in person. She felt there was so much they had to catch up on, and it was indeed impossible to believe it had been seven years since he had returned to Ireland. Over the course of those seven years, she had followed his career with wonder. From a chauffeur in England to a journalist to a respected politician, he was the embodiment of the modern man; hard work could get you anywhere. During those seven years, she had picked up on the subtle changes in his life. In the few photos she saw of him in the Irish Times (yes, she subscribed), his suits fit well. The paper he wrote on was embossed with the seal of the Irish Free State, as well as his name. Yes, there was no denying Tom Branson was accomplished. 

“Anything interesting?” Asked Jimmy from the other end of the table. While he had not been at Downton during Mr. Branson’s tenure, he was fascinated by his rise to power. 

“Yes, in fact. Mr. Branson will be in London during the Season for a series of meetings. He suggested we meet, and he sends his regards.” Mr. Carson raised her eyebrows. 

“Is that quite appropriate?” He queried. Anna suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. 

“We would meet for lunch. It’s quite proper. Plus, I think it would be nice to see him again!” The other servants nodded in agreement. 

“I’ll write him.” Anna pulled out a sheet of paper and pen and began writing.


	2. Chapter 2

Every Wednesday, Tom went to his mother’s house for dinner. Despite his now incredibly packed schedule, he always made time for her. Perhaps it was the guilt of having been away for so long in England, and then making her worry so much during the wars. No matter what it was, Tom was there come Wednesday. 

They had just finished dinner and sat together in his mother’s parlor. Tom’s youngest sister, Siobhan was playing some new, popular song on the old piano in the corner of the room. Tom sat on the sofa, discussing his upcoming trip with Patrick and Brendan. 

Siobhan stopped her playing to turn to her brothers and change the conversation. “Mary from my politics class was asking after you.” She told him, barely concealing a grin. It was no secret that Siobhan was always playing matchmaker for her eldest brother, convinced that his lack of companionship was what made him work himself to the bone. After all, it had been Helen who had showed up at his office so often and dragged him home, forcing him to rest instead of pulling yet another all-nighter, drafting new legislation, carrying out the work of the Dail. He had insisted that it was his job and what the new state demanded of him, but Helen had refused to listen. 

“Mary O’Connor?”Brendan asked. “Pretty blonde, smart, rather charming…” Like his sister, Brendan liked to occasionally play matchmaker. He knew that Helen’s death had devastated Tom, but believed he was ready to move on. Maybe with Mary O’Connor, maybe not. 

“You can tell Mary I think she’s a very nice girl, but I’m not interested.” With an eye roll and pinched lips, Tom answered his sister and stood to leave. “I have an early boat in the morning,” he explained as they protested. “I’ll see you when I return home.” 

~O~

“How is your family, Eire?” Sybil asked her maid as she brushed out her hair that night. Eire Byrne was a new housemaid, recently arrived from Ireland. She had come to Downton Abbey to earn money to support eight younger siblings. 

“They’re well, m’lady. Eamon has just found a job. He’s been looking for months.” Eire smiled at Sybil in the mirror. 

“Has he? What does he do now?” Unlike many people, Sybil always sounded genuinely curious when Eire discussed her family. She was one of those people, perhaps, the type that always cared. 

“He’s a file clerk, m’lady. For the TD Tomas Branson.” Sybil tried to disguise her reaction, but she had always had a terrible poker face. Her eyes widened as she hummed in surprise. 

“Good for him.” She said, before switching the conversation to the upcoming Season. And that was the end of that.

~O~

Sybil could not deny it; she thought often and at great lengths about Tom. Saying no to him at the training college in York was perhaps her biggest regret. Sometimes, she merely thought about the time they had spent together, while other times, she imagined what her life would be like had she agreed to marry him. Would she be a nurse in a Dublin hospital? Would they have children? Would they be in love, like they had been when he was at Downton? Sybil always crushed these thoughts before they got too far. What was the point of reminiscing on old times, thinking of times that would never come? There was no point, none at all.

**Author's Note:**

> A few quick historical explanations:  
> The Dáil Éireann is the lower house, and principal chamber, of the Oireachtas (Irish legislature) It consists of 160 members, known as Teachta Dála (commonly abbreviated as TDs). TDs represent 39 constituencies and are directly elected at least once every five years.  
> Sean Gibbons was a TD for Carlow-Kilkenny, and Sean Milroy was a TD for Cavan.  
> The London social Season took place during the summer and spring of each year; prestigious families would move from the country homes to their London homes in order to take part in numerous events, include debutante balls and matchmaking opportunities.  
> The Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 officially ended the Irish War of Independence. It was signed in London by representatives of the British government and representatives of Ireland, and led to the creation of the Irish Free State.


End file.
